Sassy Days
by Drumboy100
Summary: Marion insists that Fonzie and Howard finally give Richie "the talk," even though he is now seventeen years old. Family friendly.


Marion insists that Fonzie and Howard finally give Richie "the talk," even though he is now seventeen years old.

"Arthur! What a pleasant surprise," Marion said gleefully, genuinely happy to see Fonzie at her door. "Please come in," she ushered, holding the door for her guest, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek on the way in.

"Aww, thanks for the welcome, Mrs. C," Fonzie answered, and couldn't stop the blush from spreading over his cheeks, along with a matching idiotic smile. "Hey, umm—" he looked mildly uncomfortable, but not enough to deviate from his plan—"My ma never really taught me to cook real good, and I'm a little hungry, so…"

"Say no more—you're too skinny anyway," she scolded, and ushered him to the breakfast table. "I had your breakfast all ready for you just in case." Howard rolled his eyes slightly but said nothing, and moved his chair over to make room. Fonzie had fixed his car as a favor a couple of weeks ago, and so far he'd been a surprisingly good influence on his kids.

"Hiya, Fonzie," Joanie greeted enthusiastically, but went back to staring goggle-eyed at her new magazine.

Fonzie returned the welcome, and his eyes lit up at the plate of bacon and eggs appearing before him. He dug in immediately as a compliment to the chef.

"Oh, Arther"—Marion put a relaxed hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Richard told you the news already—he's got a date to the school dance after all!"

"So he's gone and done it. Good for him, huh, Mrs. C?" Fonzie replied with a mouthful of protein. "Who was it, Megan Portwall like we thought?"

"No, no, it was, um…oh, what was her name, Howard?" Marion flicked her husband with the dishtowel at the lack of help. "It was Rachel something, a strange last name...Rachel Chickee…Chicko…"

"Rachel…Cicconi?" Fonzie felt his jaws slow to a halt, and the flavor seeped instantly from his food.

"Oh, you _know_ her!" Marion clasped her hands together excitedly. "What's she like?"

Fonzie held a quick ethical debate with himself. Somehow, he knew this would come back to haunt him if he didn't give some kind of a warning. And this family had been so, so good to him. "She's a nice girl," he began slowly.

Howard looked at him quizzically.

"Well, uh—a word in your ear, Mrs. C," he said nonchalantly. She leaned in and he quickly said in a low voice, "In your day, she might have been known as the 'high school harlot.'"

"Oh, Howard!" she yelled, and her family flinched. "Joanie, the school bus is here," she said and tipped her daughter's chair forward. Joanie yelped in indignation as she was pushed and pulled out the door. "Come on, Ma, there's nothing here—"

"You don't want to keep them waiting when they do come," her mother replied simply and shut and locked the front door in her face. "Howard, what can we do about this? He's so excited about this dance, you heard him last night!" she moaned.

Howard gave her a hard look. "Marion, I have a hard time believing that the whole school knows this girl's reputation except for Richard. He's old enough to make his—"

Fonzie knew that tactic wouldn't work and hurriedly interrupted. "Sorry, Mr. C—Mrs. C., Richie's a nice kid. He's a _good_ kid. I think he'll be okay."

"My little boy," Marion almost sobbed, "He doesn't know about these things. He'll be unprepared. Did you ever have the talk with him like I asked you to?"

Howard choked on his orange juice. He did not lower the glass from his lips.

"Howard!" Marion hissed, sparks flying from her eyes. "He's seventeen and he still doesn't know the facts of life?" This comment stunned the two men into silence. "Fonzie, you'll have to help," she implored, turning and giving him her best maiden-in-distress eyes. "Richard might be too old now to listen to his father, but he might think advice was cool coming from you. You have to help Howard tell him about it, and then tell him not to do it!"

Fonzie was in an agony of attempting to resist her motherly eyes when Richie skipped down the stairs, perfect posture with a quick bounce in his step. "Good morning, everyone," he said in his usual cheery glass-half-full voice. "Can I have a plate, Mom?"

Marion made no move to feed her son, which was highly unusual to her.

Fonzie could suddenly think of thirty-five other places where he'd rather be. "Gee, Mrs. C, I'm sorry but the shop opens in—"

"Sit down, Fonzie," Howard growled, pulling the mechanic by the shirt back into his chair. "I'm sure your work can wait just a few minutes more."

A moment passed. Marion realized that she was alone unless she thought fast. "Good morning, Richard," she said solemnly. "Have a seat."

Richie glanced around him suspiciously, and gingerly sat down as if he were afraid a whoopee cushion were on the chair. "What's going on, Mom?"

Marion sat down next to Richie and clasped his hands. Richie frowned worriedly, thinking that someone must have died. She opened her mouth and closed it. Finally she said: "Fonzie has something to tell you."

Fonzie felt like a spotlight was lighting up his face, like he was an actor who'd forgotten his lines. "Uh…Richie…we were just talking about, um…the dance coming up this week. Why don't you tell your mom what you're planning on doing with your date?" He breathed more evenly, and even felt a little proud of himself. Now the focus was back on Richie, and maybe Mrs. C would be happy just knowing there was no necking on the agenda.

"Haven't thought it out yet," Richie said, relieved everyone was okay. "Usually the dancing winds down a little before ten, and then maybe we'll go to the lake to watch the moon on the water."

"No!" Marion interrupted sharply, and Richie looked at her, alarmed. "Richie," she almost whined, "There's something you should know about. Your father should have had this talk with you years ago."

"What is it, Dad?" Richie asked with concern. "Are you all right?"

Howard looked a perfect combination of discomfort and annoyance. "What we want to know, Richard, is if we can trust you to resist temptation this weekend with your date."

"Back up, you two," Marion said with an impatient wave of her hand. "He has no idea what you're talking about!" But while she spoke, a variety of emotions passed Richie's face—first some surprise, then understanding, and then…cunning. Richie fixed sly eyes on Fonzie, and Fonzie felt a chill pass through him. He had not realized that Richie's alter-boy face could contain such a look.

Richie leaned back, almost putting his feet on the breakfast table if his father had not swatted them off. "Yes, please, explain what's going on," he said a little too gravely. "Why would you be concerned about Saturday night?"

"That's what your father is going to explain to you," Marion said.

"Oh, no, I think you would understand it much better from someone more in your age group," his father said as if on cue.

Richie fixed innocent eyes on Fonzie.

Fonzie's face turned into steel, and sparks could have flown off it. "Cunningham…" he forced a breath in and out. "Tell your mother that you know where babies come from."

Richie responded coolly, "I remember something about a stork and a cloth bag."

His mother drew in a sharp breath and looked wide-eyed at Fonzie to continue.

Fonzie felt his face go red, but this time not from embarrassment. He clenched his teeth as his eyes bored into his friend's. "I'm sure you've heard something of it," he said quietly. "Maybe from your friends at school? Or how about health class in eighth grade?"

"Potsie and Malph and I have wondered about it from time to time, but we've never quite figured it out," Richie said. "And remember when you wrote me a note excusing me from health class, Mom? I faint at pictures of intestines," he explained.

"You might be fainting in the next few minutes, then," Fonzie snarled, but Marion cut him off. "Be patient with him, Fonzie, please!"

"But, Fonzie, Dad…" Richie continued, and Howard shot him daggers for bringing him back into this. "Why would health class have anything to do with it? I thought babies were brought to families who filled out the applications."

Marion's heart burst for her son and she rushed around the table to her husband, speaking fiercely in his ear. Howard sighed wearily but nodded to her. "Richard—" he leaned forward and clapped his son on the shoulder in a tight clamp. Richie winced but said nothing. "When two people…well, after a man and a woman get married, they can have a baby if they love each other in a certain way."

"Get married, Dad? But Julia from school just left to have a baby, and she wasn't married." Richie frowned in confusion.

Howard and Fonzie now sat on the edges of their seats, and Marion thought that their expressions looked more menacing than concerned. She even thought she saw Fonzie put pressure from his fist into his other palm.

"How about you tell your mother that you will not watch the moon on the lake with your date, before I tell her that I will make sure you're back home at 8:30," Fonzie said with a trace of froth at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you two are impossible!" Marion finally exploded, waving her hands in disgust. Fonzie and Howard shared a guilty look, unsure where this would go next. "You would really send him out totally unprepared to save you both an awkward moment? Richard, dear—" she sighed and walked to the book shelf, leafing through the stacks. "I'm so sorry, I know you might faint, but it's time. It looks like I will have to teach you this myself."

Fonzie and Howard froze in disbelief. Slowly their faces thawed into exactly the look of cunning Richie had had a moment ago. Howard sat back and put his feet on the table.

Richie's eyes rolled with terror. "Mom…" he asked shakily. "Mom, what are you looking for?"

"Oh, I know these pop-up books are around here somewhere."

Howard and Fonzie sprang out of their seats as if they'd been on fire. "Oh, look at the time!" Howard cried as Fonzie yelled "I'll lose my job if I'm late again!"

"Good, we'll need some privacy anyway. Here they are!" Marion said with relief and began to come back to the table.

"No, Mom!" Richie said frantically. "I need my father's support with this, and I need someone in my generation to explain it to me!" But Fonzie and Howard were tripping over themselves on the way out the door, and Richie could have sworn he saw a small high-five.

"Nonsense—from what you've said, I know that you need a thorough explanation. You're here with your mother now. And you'll find out in a minute what my body has to do with the fact that you're here with us today." Marion sat down and leaned in to hug her son, giving him a reassuring smile. "Turn to page one, Richie."


End file.
